Never deceive a bluestoc.., p.1
Never Deceive a Bluestocking, page 1
Never Deceive a Bluestocking
Never Deceive a Bluestocking
Neverheartts Book Four
Dawn Brower
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Never Deceive a Bluestocking © 2021 Dawn Brower
Cover art by Midnight Muse
Edits by Victoria Miller
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Love is a blessing. Embrace that gift, and tell the people in your life what they mean to you. You may not get a second chance.
The very first moment I beheld him, my heart was irrevocably gone
Jane Austen, Love and Friendship
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Excerpt: Never Disrespect a Governesss
Prologue
Chapter 1
Excerpt: Forever My Earl
Prologue
Chapter 1
About The Author
Also by Dawn Brower
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Lady Carolina Neverhartt—Carly—stared out the window of the library. Her twin, Christiana, had gone to the modiste with their mother for some new gowns. It was her turn to endure the torture. Their mother only ever took one of them, and they shared gowns. They were identical in every way except for their personalities, and her mother didn’t see any reason to buy both of them gowns. This way she saved on their constantly dwindling funds, and she only had to endure one of the twins. They were not known for having a benevolent temperament.
Carly sighed.
There had to be something she could do to entertain herself. Normally she enjoyed reading, but she was feeling restless. She wandered out of the library and down the hall. When she reached her father’s study, she stopped abruptly. The door was wide open. He never left it open… She tiptoed, hoping she wouldn’t make a noise as she passed. The last thing she wanted was to catch her father’s attention. Carly hated her father. She knew she was supposed to love him, but she couldn’t force any sort of tender feelings for him. He was a wastrel and selfish. Not once did he consider how his actions affected his family.
“Carolina,” he called out to her.
Drat. She had no choice now. He had seen her, and she would have to speak to him. “Yes, Father,” she said as she stood at the entrance of his study. It had always amazed her that her family could tell them apart. Somehow, in this instance, her father might have realized Chris was with her mother, but she couldn’t be certain. She kept her gaze lowered, but she’d caught a quick glimpse of him underneath her lashes. His face looked pale and his cheeks sunken in. His eyes had a glassy appearance to them that indicated he’d been drinking. Lovely. She was in for a real treat of an experience then…
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
She had no suitable answer to that question. Carly hadn’t had any particular destination in mind when she’d left the library. What could she tell him that he’d find acceptable? “I am going to find Billie. I thought perhaps she might need help with the chores.” They didn’t have much staff left and Billie saw to all the household tasks. Their mother didn’t bother with anything she deemed beneath her.
“That’s good,” he said absentmindedly. “You should help your sister. Billie’s a good girl.”
Billie took on more than a girl of eight and ten should. She was the oldest and was the only reason they had any food or necessities. Their parents, and she hated to admit it even to herself, were useless. “Billie needs us.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
Carly lifted her gaze and caught sight of something she’d never seen before. A violin laid carelessly near his desk.. It had sleek mahogany wood and fine strings along its neck. The bow laid on the floor next to it. Something about it called to her. She wanted that instrument. “Father,” she said. Her tone was as nonchalant as she could make it. He tended to sell anything not bolted down… which was almost anything in the house. If she expressed too much interest, he might not allow her to have it.
“Yes,” he said. A little irritation slipped into that one word.
“Why do you have a violin?” As far as she knew, her father didn’t have any musical inclinations.
He glanced down at the instrument in question. “Oh that,” he said, and waved his hand dismissively. “It was your maternal grandmother’s. She left instructions in her will that one of her grandchildren should have it. I considered selling it.”
“But…” If it was meant for one of them, could he do that? She cleared her throat. “Why didn’t you? Sell it that is…”
Her father shrugged. “Didn’t seem right.” He met her gaze. “Do you want it?”
She was afraid to speak. What if she appeared too eager and then he laughed at her? It was entirely possible he might. “It doesn’t look like much.” It was old, and the wood was faded, but oh, she wanted it.
“It isn’t,” he admitted. “They wouldn’t give me anything for it, so I brought it home. Considered smashing it.”
So he had tried to sell it. Carly almost rolled her eyes. He’d acted as if he wouldn’t because it wasn’t his place. She wasn’t surprised. That was exactly something her rotten father would do. “Oh?”
“If you don’t want it, I suppose we could burn it. Might make a decent bit of kindle.” He picked up the decanter on his desk and filled his glass with brandy. Honestly, she didn’t know why he bothered. It would be much more efficient to drink straight from the decanter. She supposed this was his way of acting slightly civilized. “Do you want the bloody thing or not?”
“I suppose I can take it,” she told him and then shrugged. “It might be entertaining.”
“Then take it and go,” he ordered. “But put it somewhere I won’t see it. Then go help your sister.”
Carly grabbed the violin and left the office. She wanted to run, but held back. Her father might change his mind and take the violin away, and she couldn’t risk that happening. When she reached the stairs, she blew out a relieved breath and then bolted up them. She scurried down the hall with quick steps, and then went straight into the room she shared with her twin. Once inside, she closed the door and plopped down on the only chair in the room. She plucked the strings with her fingertips. The vibrations made her heart soar with pleasure. Carly slid the bow across them and frowned. The shrieking wasn’t as pleasant.
She didn’t know what it took to play such an instrument, but she’d find out. Carly fully intended to learn everything she could about the instrument, and she’d master it. Her grandmother had played, and so could she—though she hadn’t known that about her grandmother before this... Carly wasn’t certain how good her grandmother had been, but that didn’t matter to her. She already loved the violin. It was the first thing she’d ever had that was hers, and hers alone in all her thirteen years... She wouldn’t even share it with her twin. Not that she thought Chris would like it, but that wasn’t the point. She had wanted something for herself, and now she had it.
Carly stored the violin in her wood chest, and then left to find Billie. She would have to ensure her lie turned into truth. Her father might take that violin away from her if he discovered she’d forgotten to help Billie. Besides, her sister worked too hard, and she should help her. Carly smiled on her way down the stairs, happy for the first time in a very long time.
Chapter 1
Five years later…
A chill spread over Carly, despite the warm spring day. Perhaps it was the wind, but she didn't believe that to be the case. There was a sense of foreboding she could not shake. She wished she understood what made her feel so uneasy. It might make her impending trip home easier for her. Soon, she'd be leaving school for good, and she would finally be free to make her own choices. At least, she hoped she'd be able to.
Perhaps that was the real issue...
She hadn't been given a choice to attend the Tenby School for Ladies. Wales was so far from home she had been homesick for days after she'd arrived. If not for her new friend, Lady Penelope Cox, she feared she would not have done well. She had made Carly feel at ease and helped her acclimate to the school. Her new friend had declared them best friends and insisted she call her Poppy...insisted everyone called her that. Carly didn't tell her that combining Poppy with her surname of Cox...well, sounded quite ridiculous, or a worse descriptor she didn’t want to put into words... She would not insult her new friend for any reason.
They took long walks on a nearby beach. One of the few activities the headmistress allowed. The beach was near the school and they could be watched. It was the only reason they had been allowed anywhere near it. Other than her required classes, and the addition of music lessons, there wasn't much else for Carly to do. She missed her twin—Chris—and the rest of her family. She corresponded with all of them regularly, but it wasn't the same. She longed for them, and the first thing she intended to do when sh
"Brooding are you?" Poppy asked.
Carly was sitting on a bench that overlooked the small garden at the school. One of their tasks was to care for it. Tending a garden was considered acceptable for a lady, at least in the eyes of the headmistress. Carly was of the belief that the headmistress liked having a garden, but the school's funding wouldn't provide for a gardener. They had finished clearing all the debris left from the winter storms, and had planted all the new seeds in the flowerbeds. The rose bushes had been trimmed, along with the shrubbery. Carly's hands still had scratches from it all. At least when she returned home she'd never have to dirty her hands with garden work again. There were many things she wanted to do, but becoming an avid gardener was not one of them.
"I'm exhausted," Carly said. "I've not had any proper time to brood as you so succinctly put it."
"You're not enjoying this bit of scheduled outdoor time?" Poppy lifted a brow. Wind blew some strands of Poppy's strawberry-blonde hair to pull free from the simple plait. She reached up and tucked them behind her ear. There was a glint in her gray eyes, mischievous perhaps. What was her friend up to? "You do not find it exhilarating?"
Carly rolled her eyes. "I suppose one could consider it that."
"And you don't?" Poppy raised an eyebrow. "What is it then?"
"Torture," she said simply.
"You want to be up in your room playing that dilapidated violin of yours."
"It is not as horrible as you are inferring," Carly exclaimed. It was rather ancient, but it was still serviceable. She'd ensured it was well taken care of. There was only so much she could do, though. Her funds were limited. The music instructor had done their best to help her learn how to play it properly, but she feared she'd never fully be proficient with it. "The strings were replaced recently, and it was tuned. It's a beautiful instrument and quite melodious."
"As long as you slide that bow over the strings properly," Poppy said and shook her head. "There were times over the past couple of years I doubted you'd ever make that thing sound good, let alone dulcet."
Carly sighed. She hated to admit that Poppy's recollect held some bit of accuracy to it. There were times that her violin practice had been straining to the ears. Even she had cringed in the early days. She played a lot better these days, but there was still so much she had to learn. "One day I'll play so well you'll weep with joy."
"I may weep," she acceded. "But it won't necessarily be from joy. Though perhaps, I admit, it could happen. When the composition has come to an end and I can finally take my fingers out of my ears, then, and only then, I might be jubilant."
Carly stuck her tongue out.
"Lady Carolina, that is not ladylike behavior," the headmistress, Miss Mary Spencer, chastised her. Her light brown hair was streaked with gold and pulled back into a severe bun.
Drat. She'd been caught. Carly sighed and prepared herself for a lecture. Hopefully, it would be her last before she left school. Her trunks were packed, and she'd be on a carriage heading home at dawn the next day. Poppy was leaving soon too, but not as soon as Carly. She had to remain a whole sennight longer. Carly would miss her, but at least it wasn't a long wait. Poppy teased her, but she was her biggest champion. She’d encouraged her to learn the violin instead of aimlessly plucking at the strings. If not for Poppy, Carly never would have had the confidence to try.
"My apologies, headmistress," Carly said in a contrite tone she didn't feel.
"You should be sorry," the headmistress said. "A lady such as you are should exhibit a better example to the younger ladies."
What was she to say to that? The younger ladies were already well-behaved. They were nothing like she had been when she first arrived. "It won't happen again." At least not while Carly remained at school... Once she returned home, she made no such promise.
"See that it doesn't." With that rebuke, the headmistress finished examining the work they had accomplished so far. "The garden looks serviceable." It was more than that, and the old bat knew it. "You may have an hour of free time before the evening meal." She clapped her hands together. "Start moving, ladies."
They all scurried away as fast as they were allowed to walk. If they ran, it would delay their departure. No one wanted that, especially Carly. She rushed up to her room to retrieve her violin. It was all she desired. When she returned home, she'd seek out a new teacher. She would become one of the best players in all of England, perhaps the world. There was nothing she wanted more than that...
Wesley Cox, the Earl of Sheffield, surveyed the room. His grandfather, the Duke of Pembroke, had tasked him with seeing to the final details of the Pembroke Academy of Music. The duke had believed he was helping Wes by giving him a school devoted to music to run. Wes loved music, but he had never wanted to be in control of a school. He’d wanted to go to a school such as the one his grandfather had built. If the academy had existed when he was younger, he’d have begged to be allowed to attend.
His younger sister, Poppy, was returning from finishing school in a week. He would have to escort her to dances and other mundane social functions, and ensure the school’s opening happened without any issues. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it all, but did any of that matter? His grandfather had expectations, and Wes would have to not only meet them, but also exceed them. That was what happened when one’s grandfather was a duke, and one day in the future, as the heir, he would have that title too. His father wouldn’t be much help, either. The Marquess of Richmond had his own tasks to complete. The Duke of Pembroke was a challenging man, and his family bore the brunt of his demands.
This school wasn’t a bad thing. He wished his grandfather would have discussed it with him before he started building it, then telling him rather than asking if he’d manage it. Wes wanted to play music, not listen to it or even instruct students to create it. Why was that so difficult for his grandfather to understand?
“Graystone said I might find you here,” Carrolton said, as he strolled into the empty room. “What will this place be again?”
“The Pembroke Academy of Music,” Wes said dryly.
Carrolton lifted a brow. His brown hair was a little disheveled. Probably from the wind that seemed to have taken on a life of its own lately. “And why are you here?”
“Grandfather.” It was the only thing he needed to say. His closest friends would understand. Wes hadn’t made it a secret how frustrating the duke could be.
Carrolton strolled around the room and surveyed the area. “What will this room’s purpose?”
“My office,” Wes said, then sighed. “I’m waiting for a delivery of furniture. Because, you know, a servant or worker couldn’t be tasked with it.”
It was difficult to keep the bitterness out of his voice. Wes wished he could turn around and walk out to never return again. His grandfather would track him down and demand his return. Well, he wouldn’t do it personally, more likely he’d send one of his favorite servants to do it.
“It’s a nice enough room,” Carrolton said in a diplomatic tone. “If you have to spend a lengthy amount of time in here, at least it should have a…pleasant atmosphere.”
“Pleasant?” Wes glared at him. “That’s not the word I would have chosen.”
“True,” Carrolton agreed. “It could be worse. My mother could be here.”
Wes chuckled. Carrolton’s mother was worse in a lot of ways than Wes’s grandfather. At least his grandfather loved him and tried to do what was best for the family. Carrolton’s mother was selfish and didn’t care about anyone but herself. “How are the repairs to the dower house coming along?” Wes had banished his mother to his country estate. There was no actual dower house on the property. Instead, Wes had bought a cottage in a different county and established paperwork to make it a dower house. Once the repairs were done, his mother would take up residence and live with a much smaller income than she had grown accustomed to. In Wes’s opinion, even that was too good for the woman.
